


The Ultimate Computer:  My Heroes Have Always Been...

by Cheree_Cargill



Series: Glimpses of a Life [56]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheree_Cargill/pseuds/Cheree_Cargill
Summary: Spock had grown up admiring Dr. Richard Daystrom, but the outcome of the M-5 wargames has been devastating.





	The Ultimate Computer:  My Heroes Have Always Been...

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2018 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated PG.

 

 

 _Stardate:_ _4731.2_ _._ _Personal Log. First Officer Spock recording._

 

Once upon a time there was a small boy. His father was a great and powerful man who doted on his son and determined to teach him all he knew. When still a baby, the boy was sat upon his father's lap and received his first lesson in computers. His tiny fingers were led to the proper keys and he learned to delight in the response of the machine at his directions.

As the boy grew his lessons increased. He learned to instruct the computer do his bidding and gave his first verbal commands as soon as his speech cleared enough for the machine to decipher it. When he attended school, the cool and logical workings of the library computers led him into worlds both near and far away. The intricacies of higher math fueled his search and his progress delighted his stern father, for he could see that the son would excel even higher than he had.

The father enrolled his twelve-year-old boy in the first courses of the Daystrom Institute and there the son felt his mind open as it never had before. He understood the math and logic and workings and fed off the complex applications as if feasting on ripe fruit. By the time he was an adult and was determining the path of his life, he already held a degree in duotronics and was beginning work on an advanced degree, all before he was seventeen.

The proud father expected him to continue his studies and eventually teach at the Vulcan Science Academy, as he had himself, but the son had grown rebellious. He had seen the vastness of the universe outside his home world and would not be contained there. After exploring his options, he made the logical choice of becoming part of an organization that would allow him to reach out beyond the limitations offered him at home. His mother had supported him, quoting an old verse from her planet – "A man's reach should exceed his grasp or what's a heaven for?" The son did not understand it fully, only that his mother was supportive of his decision.

It caused a permanent rift between the son and his obstinate father, but he knew what he must do. As he went through Starfleet Academy training, he continued to work on his advanced degrees and one day he saw the man responsible for the path of his life. One day a new hero appeared, a man he had known only through books and study but had never met. That day the son was only one of a thousand cadets gathered in the Academy auditorium to hear the creator of duotronic computer systems speak, Dr. Richard Daystrom himself.

He was a tall, aristocratic dark-skinned Human, not significantly older than the young men and women he addressed, but with the brilliance of a sun when they were only fireflies. The young man was dazzled and, although he never met the professor face to face, he buckled down even harder in his studies, which were in addition to his Starfleet training. The degrees mounted up as the midshipman finished his studies and was commissioned an ensign.

Because of his academic brilliance, the new officer was assigned to teach computer science at the Academy, even though he had not yet received his first ship assignment. He now held a doctorate in Daystrom duotronics, an A-5 rating. There was more still to learn and he watched as Dr. Daystrom was awarded Nobel and Zee-Magnees Prizes for his work. But then … nothing more…

The ensign taught and studied and earned degrees in astrophysics and the next level of duotronics, now an A-6 rating. He watched and waited for Daystrom to reveal his next invention. The ensign was promoted to lieutenant (j.g.) and still he watched, following his hero from afar. He and others wrote brilliant papers based on Dr. Daystrom's work, building off the professor's achievements, but gradually the years went by and there were only rumors of failure after failure and people began to laugh. The lieutenant did not. It was not only not the Vulcan way, but he truly admired the computer genius.

Then one day there was a new class of starships launched and the Daystrom duotronic system had been built into them. The young Vulcan was promoted to full lieutenant and assigned to that ship as science officer. He knew more about the computers on board than anyone and, perhaps because he was the only Vulcan on a ship crewed with Humans, he found solace and satisfaction in working with those computers, improving them, rewriting elements of software for maximum proficiency, making Daystrom's work even better. Somewhere, deep down, he felt guilt at tampering with the professor's work and making it his own, but there was pride as well, something he should not feel as a Vulcan.

Years went by and he advanced through the ranks to lieutenant commander and then full commander. He was second in command of that starship, still Science Officer but First Officer as well. He was now an A-7 rating, something no one had achieved since duotronics had been introduced some twenty years before. The Vulcan child who had sat on his father's knee was now the foremost computer expert in the Federation, second only to Daystrom himself.

Finally, one day came the long awaited announcement. Daystrom had topped himself with multitronic computers, the M-5, and the great man himself came aboard the _Enterprise_ to supervise the installation and testing with a series of wargames.

Enough of my third person narrative. It serves no purpose and is a pointless affectation.

I had never met nor worked with the man I had admired – worshipped – all these years. Dr. Daystrom proved to be even more impressive in person. He was even taller than I, standing a good four inches more, and solid and muscular. His voice was melodic, that of a Shakespearean actor, a deep baritone that I had heard many times, but which caused a thrill to go through me when he spoke. I longed to work directly with him, to get my hands directly on the M-5, but he would not allow it. After our introduction, he virtually dismissed me as irrelevant. I was curious, puzzled, and frankly hurt. I wanted so much to work side-by-side with my idol, to impress him with my knowledge.

And then, with a suddenness that nearly took my breath away, I realized that the great man I had admired nearly my entire life, the man who had beckoned me down a path that shaped my profession and passion, the man whom I had patterned myself after – was _mad_. I listened to him arguing and pleading with the M-5 there on the bridge and I knew that he had become utterly insane. I felt as if a part of me died. It was like a physical blow.

Later, after it was all over, when the wargames had ended and the dead counted, and the truly mad scientist had been taken away to a rehab center for treatment, I sat in my cabin, attempting to meditate and reconcile myself to the reality of it all. It was then that Dr. McCoy, perceptive as ever to my needs and moods, came to me with a bottle of Romulan ale and ordered me to partake of a small glass. I began to protest that it was illegal to own such a beverage but he interrupted me with his nonsense of it being medicinal and doctor's orders and other platitudes.

I was too downhearted to fight with him at the moment and accepted a small shot glass of the blue liquid. He took one for himself and we downed our drinks together. I watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered a bit. For me, the liquor was not so potent but I had to admit that it burned my esophagus as I swallowed.

"Okay, Spock," he said after a moment. "Tell me how you feel about losing your hero."

I arched an eyebrow. "I do not _feel_ , Dr. McCoy. And he was not my hero."

"You can lie to me and you can lie to yourself, but the fact remains. You admired him and now his fall has affected you to a great extent. Now, you can talk to me, in either a professional or friend capacity, or you can talk to Jim. But you need to talk to one of us. And we can do it here or in my office. Your choice."

I sighed deeply and slumped slightly in my chair. Clearly, he was not going to go away. I began in a barely audible voice. "Once there was a small boy…"

THE END

 

 


End file.
